


Spin the Bottle

by mab_di



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, One Shot, Orgy, Rating: NC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mab_di/pseuds/mab_di
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The knights and their prince agree to a game of strip-spin-the-bottle, all eyes on Merlin’s mouth. Lancelot disapproves but agrees to join for Merlin’s sake. Debauchery ensues, but what Arthur and Merlin have is bigger than even the most debauched orgy. Lancelot POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin the Bottle

A/N This story is a relic. I started writing it just before the beginning of Series 4, fresh off a marathon watch of the first three series. Merlin was still a boy in my eye, and Lancelot destined for something great. The story is Lancelot’s POV, so I found myself abandoning it in despair after S4x2. It’s only now, released from the confines of the show’s narrative, that I was ready to finish it. It is slightly silly, crackish PWP, but with feelings. I’m no comedian and even my attempts at crack turn serious (or sappy?). Apologies for that.

A huge thanks to [](http://asya-ana.livejournal.com/profile)[**asya_ana**](http://asya-ana.livejournal.com/) for being such an awesome beta. Any mess or confusion indicates advice I failed to take.

 

 

Lancelot feared for the honour of Camelot’s court whenever Gwaine wrestled control of the festivities, but at the moment he was more concerned for Merlin’s virtue. Merlin appeared unsuspecting as Gwaine explained the rules of a game he’d picked up from King Rodor’s court, oblivious to the rapacious eyes trained on him. On most occasions Lancelot could turn to Arthur for sense and decorum, but the prince could not hold his mead. Gwaine’s game was designed to inebriate its players but it did not appear Arthur needed any help in that direction.

Everyone wise or sober had gone to bed, drifting out of the dining hall as the knights drank themselves under the table. That is to say, they’d abandoned the table for the thick rug on the floor of an adjoining sitting room. Only Lancelot remained sober among them, having taken it upon himself to keep watch over Merlin. Gwaine had set a deck of cards and an empty mead bottle on a platter in the centre of the circle of sprawling bodies. As he expounded on the rules they grew more complicated than any of the party had energy to track.

Lancelot ventured a nudge at Arthur’s ribs and whispered, “Do you think this is wise?” He got nothing but a wave of the hand and a grunt in return. Merlin sat directly across from Arthur with his knees tucked up under his chin. The look between the prince and his servant over the bottle between them was enough to spur Lancelot to urgent action.

He slid out from beside Arthur and shuffled around the backs of Elyan and Percival until he was squeezed in at Merlin’s side. “Merlin, listen to me.”

Merlin turned to him with a dreamy half-smile. “Lancelot.” His smile grew.

“Merlin, I think you ought to excuse yourself.” The pert bow of Merlin’s lips drooped.

“I don’t belong here? With the knights?”

“Merlin, don’t be ridiculous. You know you belong. I’m merely…I’m concerned.” He paused. “For your well-being.”

“My well-being?”

Gods, but he was daft sometimes.

“Merlin, look around.” But he didn’t. He stayed fixed on Lancelot.

“I don’t understand.”

“Merlin, I think this is a bit of a set-up.” He wished to put it delicately, but he was struggling. “Arthur, and the rest. They’re drunk. I don’t want them to take advantage of you.”

Merlin huffed and gave Lancelot a sloppy shove on the shoulder. He’d had his share of mead as well. “Take advantage? How, Lance? I’m…you know.... And anyhow, you know it’s you they’re after.” His eyes widened. “Look how pretty you are!”

The last was said at alarming volume and Lancelot warmed with embarrassment, but a quick glance around the circle revealed half-focused smiles. Only Arthur fumed a little. Lancelot reminded himself the boy was drunk and returned to his point. “Merlin, I don’t think you understand…” _How to say this_? “Oh, damn.” He was going to have to spell it out. “Your mouth, Merlin. Do you understand…?”

The mouth in question opened just enough to invite daydreams and Lancelot was sure he heard a collective sigh around the circle. They might not be listening intently, but they were watching. “My what?” Merlin managed.

“Merlin, look around. They’re not looking at me. …Your lips…do you...?” He didn’t want to make the boy uncomfortable, but Merlin needed to understand his peril. Merlin’s eyes rose and for a brief moment Lancelot was hopeful that he’d grasp the predatory stares for what they were. Instead, Merlin slung a sighing glance in Arthur’s direction and seemed to get caught on what he saw there. Lancelot despaired.

“The game ends when…”

“Arthur,” Lancelot interrupted Gwaine.

“Whatsisit, Lancelot?” Arthur slurred, not taking his eyes off a now blatantly pining Merlin.

“If there’s no way I can persuade you all to abandon this folly, I think it’s only decent for someone to offer Merlin some clothes.”

“I’m dressed!”

“Yes, Merlin, but considerably less so than the rest of us. You’re already in your stocking feet.” Lancelot waved around the circle at the knights. Dinner had been a ceremonial affair and they were all still wearing boots and cloaks over their tunics. “If I understand the rules of this absurd game, and if I’m correct about the extent of your experience with cards, I estimate you’ll be indecent within…” Lancelot did a quick inventory of Merlin’s wardrobe. “…about three cards. Four if we count the kerchief.”

Merlin’s hand shot to the red kerchief at his neck and Lancelot was fairly certain he saw Arthur lick his lips in his peripheral vision.

Merlin retained the air of naiveté even as dawn slowly broke over his face. The effect on his features wasn’t helping to derail the mob. Lancelot himself was having difficulty keeping his mind from wandering to the cleft in Merlin’s bottom lip.

“Merlin.” Lancelot had to stay focused. “At least borrow a robe. _Please_.”

“Uh, alright. If someone…will…”

If Merlin had been slow to catch on, the hesitance amongst his friends to offer him even one article of clothing helped Lancelot get his point across. Merlin finally looked past Arthur to the other faces around the circle. Elyan wore a friendly grin, but his sloshy gaze was unmistakably fixed on Merlin. Percival, too strapping to have gotten as drunk as the others, and perhaps a bit reticent, had nonetheless clearly decided that Merlin was the closest thing to a girl he was going to find tonight. He looked at Merlin like he was salvation. Gwaine was debauched, leaning forward and flirting with his hair and his eyes. Even Merlin could not be unaware of Gwaine’s attention. Leon, at least as drunk as Elyan, appeared almost shy in his desire, but was, too, focused on Merlin’s mouth. Merlin finally turned back to Arthur, who undid the effect of the rest by looking so edible that Lancelot himself could hardly blame Merlin for wanting to persist.

A brief flicker of nerves passed over Merlin’s face, and then he turned to Lancelot with his confidence returned. He leaned in and whispered, “ S’ok. I got this.” He tapped his index finger to his temple. Lancelot thought Merlin was marvelous in a fight, but probably no match for this crowd under the influence of drink.

“Merlin, at least take my cloak.” He unhooked the thick, red fabric from around his neck and swung it from his shoulders onto Merlin’s narrow frame. It hung like a blanket and hid most of Merlin immediately, leaving only his nervous grin, his ears, and his cheekbones…

Lancelot shook his head and turned to the circle. With a glare, he dared his frowning comrades to say a word about the gift of his cloak.

“I’ve done what I can. I think I’ll excuse myself before…” Merlin’s fingers wrapped around Lancelot’s wrist with surprising strength.

“Don’t?” Merlin batted his lashes. “Please, stay. Play with us?” He couldn’t suppress a grin and Lancelot told himself he was going to do it for Merlin.

“I’ll stay.” He settled as comfortably as he could next to Merlin and noticed the scowl on Arthur’s face lift only slightly when Merlin withdrew his hand from Lancelot’s wrist.

A loud clap broke the tension and Gwaine lunged for the deck of cards. “All right, then! I’ll begin.” His expression was wicked and Lancelot expected no less when he placed the deck in front of Merlin. “I challenge you first, Merlin.”

Merlin looked game, if slightly anxious. He tucked his legs under him so he was resting on his calves, wiped his palm on his thigh and reached for the top card in the deck. Lancelot had to battle the instinct to sneak a look. They were sitting close enough that it would be easy to help, but he would never cheat at cards.

Merlin looked pleased with what he saw. Lancelot couldn’t resist and mumbled, “Please be conservative, Merlin.”

“You really are a drag, Lancelot,” complained a gleeful Gwaine, who had quickly palmed his card and was sizing up Merlin. Lancelot half expected Gwaine to lick the boy before they’d made their bets. “Go ahead, Merlin. Your wager.”

Merlin was stumped for a moment. “You do understand the rules, Merlin?” This came from Arthur who, Lancelot noted, looked for the first time all night to be a tad concerned for his servant. Even through the haze of inebriation it must have become clear that he wasn’t the only one having untoward thoughts.

“Sure, sure,” nodded Merlin. “Umm, so, I wager four articles of clothing…”

“What?” Before Merlin could finish, Lancelot had pounded a hand on his thigh. “Merlin, are you mad? You’ll be naked with one card!”

“You’re assuming I’m going to lose.”

“Let the boy make his bet, Lancelot.” Gwaine was near bouncing with excitement.

“Juss think for a moment, Merlin,” urged Arthur. Lancelot was relieved to hear a more level-headed version of his prince, if not remotely sober.

Merlin generally bristled at suggestions from Arthur, but for once he seemed inclined to placate. “Ok, three articles of clothing, and two drinks that my card is higher than yours.”

Gwaine nodded and looked at the card in his palm. “I raise you one spin of the bottle.”

Merlin’s gaze fell to his lap out of natural shyness. “Remind me,” he said, contemplating his card, “what happens if I don’t agree to the raise?”

“Then you shed one additional article of clothing if you lose, and one article regardless if you win.”

Lancelot was trying to figure out how Merlin might fix this, but cards were tricky; all sets of eyes were on him, and he was drunk. It wasn’t likely he could do anything but play the card he’d been dealt.

Merlin met Gwaine defiantly and answered, “I accept. Lay down your card.”

The gleam in Gwaine’s eye was almost cruel, if Gwaine were capable of such a thing. He was not, of course. He watched as Merlin laid down a Jack, and his grin grew impossibly wider.

Gwaine laid his King next to Merlin’s Jack and simply offered, “Go ahead, then.”

Merlin gave a weak smile in no one’s direction and looked down at himself as if contemplating where to begin.

“May I suggest…”

“For the gods’ sake, Lancelot, can the boy not make his own decisions?”

“He’s drunk, Gwaine, which you well know. And you also know how entirely outrageous…”

“Ok, enough, you two,” interrupted Merlin. “Lancelot, I understand. I’ll keep the robe on as long as I can.” With that he removed his socks. And then he paused. His hand hovered at the kerchief still tied around his neck. “Umm, can I ask a question?”

“Of course, Merlin.” Gwaine sounded tender, perhaps chastened by Lancelot’s outburst. Everyone in the circle was quiet now. It had been fun to imagine this and they were all still drunk enough to want it, but there was no question what was coming next and even Arthur looked to be holding his breath.

“If I…umm…if we don’t count my kerchief, as clothing, can I…keep it?”

Lancelot bit his tongue and let Gwaine make the call. “It’s against the rules, strictly speaking, but I suppose you are rather shabbily dressed. Sure, go ahead.”

Merlin let out a small huff in relief and then reached down to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up over his smooth, thin torso, revealing goose-pimpled skin over his abdomen despite the warmth of the room. Next, the clear outline of ribs emerged. And finally, two beautifully pebbled nipples. Lancelot lost his modesty in the moment and was riveted. There was no sound but the heavy breaths of the knights and their prince, and the almost inaudible squeak of the boy struggling to wriggle his shirt under the clasp of the robe around his neck, while smoothing his kerchief against his collarbone. Finally, after stretching a long neck up and back, tipping his Adam’s apple into the air as though he were baring himself for sacrifice, Merlin managed to pull the shirt over his head.

A collective exhalation was spent in the room as Merlin rested back on his calves and looked comfortable now, bare-footed and shirtless, with Lancelot’s robe gallantly covering his shoulders and back. The kerchief was still wound around his neck.

“So, there,” he said. He looked relieved to have the stripping part over with. He made no move for the bottle.

“Drink first,” offered Gwaine. “Then you spin the bottle.”

Merlin nodded and took the heavy bottle of rougher spirits that Gwaine offered him across the circle. His tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip as he lifted the bottle. Lancelot’s mouth watered and he had to pull his eyes away from Merlin for a brief moment. He looked to his fellow knights and their leader. Every one of them was agape, hypnotised as Merlin wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle and tipped his head back to drink. Lancelot could almost see the cool liquid slide down Merlin’s throat and the miniscule contractions of the muscles in his abdomen as he swallowed. Merlin coughed slightly from the strength of it and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as he finished. Lancelot forced himself to focus on Arthur. His prince. His prince who looked close to tears. He’d never seen desperation quite like that on Arthur’s face. Not in battle. Not in pain. This was different.

Merlin set the spirits down and reached for the empty mead bottle lying on its side in the middle of the circle. “Just spin?”

“Just spin,” replied Gwaine. “And no cheating.”

Lancelot worried for a moment that Merlin _would_ cheat. Merlin was looking directly at Arthur now, his aim clear. Lancelot figured it would be nearly impossible for Merlin to resist the temptation. He was flush from the exposure and the wine and most likely adrenalin. He was impossibly more beautiful with Lancelot’s own robe hanging around him.

Merlin gave the bottle a hard spin and looked to be holding his breath as it did one, two, three revolutions and began to slow. Lancelot watched Merlin’s eyes for some sign that he was guiding it, but he looked only to be hoping. Finally the bottle rested, its neck pointing clearly across from Merlin, directly at Arthur.

Arthur was biting the inside of his cheek. He exhaled through his nose and puffed himself up a bit. His eyes had hardly left Merlin’s mouth since Gwaine first explained the meaning of “spin the bottle,” and he looked like a man who had had enough of waiting.

Merlin didn’t say a word. Clearly he had understood this part of the game as well as any of them. And if he’d been oblivious to the leers of the knights, Lancelot suspected it had not for a moment escaped Merlin that here was an opportunity to take what he’d wanted for longer than Lancelot had known them both. Merlin rose to his knees and pushed the cape back so that it sat behind his shoulders and left his arms and chest and stomach bare, pale but warm in the light of the waning candles that lit the room. He inched forward on his knees until he was perched inches from Arthur, and then sat back again on his haunches. The two of them stared unabashedly. There was no mistaking Arthur’s target. Merlin’s mouth was wet still from the wine and the nervous swipe of his tongue.

“So,” said Merlin, quietly. Lancelot felt ashamed for watching; they were blind to their audience.

“So,” replied Arthur. Arthur leaned up, wrapped his hand around the back of Merlin’s neck, and pulled Merlin’s mouth roughly to his own. Lancelot swallowed dryly as Arthur sucked Merlin’s bottom lip into his expert mouth. He watched as Arthur tasted that surely soft, sweet lip of Merlin’s and then opened his mouth to mould their lips together. Arthur’s cheeks hollowed slightly as he pressed deeper into Merlin’s mouth. A small whimper escaped. _Merlin_. A groan. _Arthur_.

Lancelot felt his own arousal stir. He shifted uncomfortably and realized he didn’t have his robe to cover his groin. He looked nervously around the circle and was scandalised to see the lust on every one of their faces. Gwaine was leaning so far in Arthur and Merlin’s direction he was in danger of falling into them. Leon was sweating the way a man in a state of desperate arousal will. Percival swallowed uncomfortably. Elyan was a picture of peaceful, if slightly dizzy, bliss.

Arthur didn’t relent. Lancelot vaguely remembered the rules were a single kiss, but their lips were bound. Merlin’s mouth had opened and Arthur’s tongue was exploring the secrets there. Arthur’s body was hidden behind Merlin but Lancelot thought he could see the outline of Merlin’s hardened cock against his thigh under his thin trousers. Merlin was naked under those trousers. Lancelot was shot with guilty excitement at the realisation. One more challenge and Merlin’s arousal would be exposed. He tried to pull his eyes away from the two men kissing with such passion no one could mistake it for anything less than what it was. It wasn’t the drink. It wasn’t the game. They wanted this. Badly, they wanted it.

Merlin’s fingers dug into Arthur’s biceps and Arthur leaned into Merlin, clutching tightly at the back of his head. They kissed, and in the brief moments that their lips separated for breath, before turning back to each other, the wet of their tongues and shared warmth glistened between them. Light kisses, hard pressing mouths, bites, tongues. They were lost in each other’s mouths, their bodies straining closer, hands moving with the unmistakable desire to _touch…more_.

Lancelot cleared his throat. He couldn’t take it. This was going to turn vastly more inappropriate if someone didn’t interrupt; the only thing worse than playing this ill-fated game was having to abort due to Arthur’s drunken mauling of his manservant.

Both Arthur and Merlin reluctantly slowed their movements, hovered within breath’s distance, and then Arthur’s hand slid down Merlin’s back under the cloak to rest on the curve of his bottom for a moment before they very slowly pulled back from one another. Arthur’s eyes were nearly black with pupil and his chest heaved. He looked lost. Without thought he reached a hand up to Merlin’s bare chest, running the side of his thumb down Merlin’s sternum. Merlin shivered and then crawled backward away from Arthur. As he inched into the space beside Lancelot, a quiet whimpering became audible. Lancelot put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder to try to ground him, and for a moment all but forgot his own lust. The arousal and frustration radiating off of Merlin was palpable and Lancelot needed to help him still it.

Gwaine, who had been cocky until now, was uncharacteristically quiet. Lancelot pulled his scrambled thoughts together and took strength from Merlin’s calming breaths under the weight of his hand. “Merlin, I believe it’s your challenge.”

Lancelot wasn’t expecting the pleading look on Merlin’s face as Merlin turned to him and whispered, “Please, Lance, you’ve got to help me.”

“Of course, Merlin,” he quickly assured. “What do you need?” Merlin shot a glance at Arthur and then turned back to Lancelot. “Don’t let me… I’m going to challenge you,” he said loudly enough to be heard by the circle.

“Sure, sure. Go ahead.”

Merlin took a shaky hand to the deck of cards, setting the discarded Jack and King to the side, and placed it in front of Lancelot. After a steadying breath, Merlin seemed to regain his balance. Lancelot understood his role and although he pulled a respectable ten, he wagered only a single article of clothing.

“Oi, mate, I’m fairly sure the rules said you had to also wager at least one drink or one spin of the bottle.” This from Leon, who was still looking physically uncomfortable in his skin, cheeks flushed and hands flexing and relaxing unconsciously. Leon’s eyes roamed over Merlin’s lap and the still visible outline of his erection there.

Gwaine nodded and swallowed. Lancelot looked to Merlin for direction and to his surprise Merlin nodded at the empty bottle in the centre of the circle. “I thought you wanted my help,” hissed Lancelot.

Merlin shrugged and gave a half smile that indicated he was hopeless.

“Then one article of clothing and one spin of the bottle.”

Merlin’s expression radically transformed from desperate to mischievous as he studied his card. He nodded and with a wink, replied, “I raise you two articles of clothing and a drink of spirits.”

“Are you bloody mad?” How was Lancelot supposed to help him when he was so intent on getting naked?

“Maybe I’ve gotten lucky,” smiled Merlin, pushing the cape back confidently as if he hadn’t been panting within an inch of his life moments ago.

“I don’t accept,” answered Lancelot. Merlin wasn’t thinking straight. Had he counted his remaining garments?

Merlin shrugged and flipped his card. It was a Queen.

“Oh.”

“Yes?”

“Well then. That’s…two articles of clothes to me?”

Merlin nodded.

Lancelot quickly pulled off one of his boots and was reaching for the second when he stopped. It was foolish to be concerned about Merlin, who had no sense of self-preservation. Still, one look at him, his lips still swollen, his eyes sparkling in the dim candlelight, and Lancelot softened. The least he could do was show some solidarity. He reached for the hem of his thick tunic and swiftly lifted it over his head to a few surprised grunts around the circle.

Gwaine clapped and whistled, “Bravo! Now that’s the spirit!” He shoved the bottle of drink in Lancelot’s direction and Lancelot took a swift swig. It burned as it went down and swam quickly to his head, as he’d hardly had a drop all night. He only dimly registered that it wasn’t part of the wager he’d made.

Somehow the removal of his shirt lightened everyone’s mood. All eyes around the circle looked more relaxed. Leon and Gwaine had regained their playful excitement. Percival smiled weakly. Elyan was increasingly horizontal but seemed pleased. Only Arthur remained serious. A small rim of blue had returned to his eyes but he was tracking Merlin’s every movement relentlessly.

Merlin beamed at him with unmistakable gratitude and Lancelot felt himself get warm at the silent praise. Merlin was irresistible, and that was why he was about to spin this ridiculous bottle and snog one of his fellows all whilst half naked.

He did spin the bottle and to his relief it landed on Percival. Poor Percival. There was very little to intimidate Percival but Lancelot ventured a guess that this would make the short list. He gave Percival the most sympathetic look he could manage as he turned to him and saw resolve seat itself on the giant man’s face.

“You are rather gorgeous,” grinned Percival. “I suppose I could do worse.” And with that he leaned in and planted his warm lips firmly on Lancelot’s waiting mouth. The kiss was solid, Percival’s breath and body radiating heat, and for a brief moment Lancelot forgot the game and forgot Merlin and forgot everything but the pleasure of the pressure of Percival’s full lips on his, the broad hand on his naked back and the shiver that ran over his ribs and stomach.

And then it was over and Percival was pulling away, only lightly trailing calloused fingers over Lancelot’s side as he let go. Lancelot took a deep breath and willed himself to look Percival in the eye with a steady expression of gratitude before he turned back to the deck of cards.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Merlin gaping and couldn’t resist glancing at Arthur. To his surprise, Arthur looked curious, as though novel thoughts were taking root. He was still fixed on Merlin, but his possessive stare had softened into something perplexed. Lancelot chose not to interrogate that further and moved to plant the deck of cards in front of Leon.

Leon was even drunker than Lancelot had previously credited and was very quickly stripping off his boots and cloak, and spinning the bottle. It landed on Gwaine, who made quick work of a sloppy kiss, ripping at Leon’s hair and shoving his tongue into Leon’s slack mouth. Leon had set the bottle up to aim at Merlin, ignoring Arthur’s glare, but if he regretted missing his mark he didn’t show it as he graciously accepted Gwaine’s groping kiss.

When it was his turn to challenge, Leon leaned in Merlin’s direction, eyes back on Merlin’s trousers. A small coughing fit from Arthur managed to penetrate his fogged brain and he reluctantly turned from Merlin to Percival. Percival lost his cloak and boots to Leon’s lucky draw and spared a glance for Merlin before spinning the bottle. He found himself at Gwaine’s mercy despite his size. Gwaine managed to get two hands on Percival’s chest and angle deep for a searching kiss. Percival almost lost his balance and had to grab onto Gwaine’s biceps to steady himself on his knees. Heat flared in the large room, making everything feel closer. Lancelot fidgeted as the kiss drew out and Gwaine grunted softly into the corner of Percival’s mouth. He turned his head to Merlin and found Merlin with half an eye on Gwaine and Percival, and half on Arthur, whose attention was similarly split. There was no endgame here, as far as Lancelot could tell, that didn’t involve behaviour they were all going to regret the next day.

On Gwaine’s turn, he challenged Arthur. After Gwaine brazenly raised his modest wager to three articles of clothing, two drinks, and a spin of the bottle, Arthur shouldn’t have been surprised to lose, but his expression was nonplussed when his seven was laid next to Gwaine’s nine. Rather than go straight for his boots, he appeared to do the same mental calculation Lancelot had done. Arthur swayed a bit as he unclasped his cloak and dropped it behind him. He smirked at Merlin, but managed to infuse the expression with a modicum of nobility as he pulled the royal blue tunic over his head, revealing skin nearly as golden as his hair. Merlin sighed loudly and Lancelot gave him a firm nudge with his elbow, just in case he was in danger of hurling himself in Arthur’s direction. Lancelot had been half-hard since Merlin and Arthur’s kiss and the sight of his prince’s bare chest under the current circumstances did not help the cause.

Arthur discarded his tunic and returned his attention to Merlin, as though he needed to reestablish something after the short break in eye contact. And then he reached for his boots and swiftly removed them both before Gwaine could stop him with, “Only three, Arthur…”

Arthur looked thoughtful without turning from Merlin. “Symmetry,” he answered, and took the bottle of spirits that was handed him from Percival. Lancelot winced as Arthur took two quick swigs, afraid the prince might be mere drops away from a hazardous condition. Indeed, Arthur’s eyes swam as he set the spirits down and made his way on his knees to the empty mead bottle in the centre. He looked nervous as he spun, at last switching his attention from Merlin to the bottle.

After four revolutions the bottle slowly turned past Merlin, Lancelot, Percival, and landed on Elyan.

Elyan roused from his reclined position and glanced over at Merlin, as did Lancelot and the rest of the circle. Merlin’s lips were slightly parted, his lids heavy. If Lancelot were asked he’d have described the expression as anticipatory rather than jealous. Merlin gave Arthur a hint of a nod and Arthur seemed to understand. After a lingering look to Merlin, Arthur turned his attention to Elyan and properly assessed his knight. Arthur was seated with one knee bent, the other leg tucked under, and straightened himself as Elyan slid across the empty space between them. There was none of Gwaine’s grabbing or Percival’s efficiency, but there was also no hesitance. Just a slow lean by both of them into a soft kiss, Arthur’s knuckles rubbing a small circle into Elyan’s cheek. The kiss was sweet, and Lancelot felt Merlin shift beside him, looked to find Merlin’s eyes welling slightly with something that wasn’t sadness. Merlin leaned in like the rest of them, but his expression was tight and his trousers were beginning to tent.

Elyan pulled back then, a shy glance downward, sobered slightly. Arthur gave him a warm smile before shifting back himself. He took a steadying breath before he brought his eyes to meet Merlin’s. Merlin’s state was transparent. Arthur was in a similar one. With a nod from Merlin, Arthur moved forward to place the deck before him, and Merlin could barely take his eyes from Arthur’s long enough to glance at his card.

“Everything,” Merlin said roughly. “And a spin of the bottle.” Lancelot bit back a scold. It was clear from the expression on Arthur’s face that any attempt to thwart this was futile.

Merlin and Arthur turned their cards together, Arthur’s nine laid next to Merlin’s five. “You bet everything on a five?” Gwaine laughed. Lancelot recognised his attempt to lighten the mood, but the mood had only ever been light for fleeting moments and it wasn’t going back. Arthur looked at Gwaine seriously, not unkindly.

“It’s warm tonight. Gwaine?” With a nod, Arthur led his knights in the abandonment of the rules. He leaned down to remove his socks as he spoke. Gwaine nodded, and with his eyes on Merlin, unhooked his cloak and pulled his tunic over his head in quick order.

Merlin had removed his cloak as well, untied the kerchief from his neck, and had his hands on the knot at his waist. He paused to watch Gwaine, who smiled as he reached for the laces of his own breeches. Lancelot pulled at his socks and saw that around the circle they’d all begun to disrobe in unspoken agreement. Percival’s well-formed chest emerged from the suede vest he pulled up with crossed arms. Leon and Elyan both moved to unknot laces and shimmy the last of their clothing over their thighs. Lancelot’s heart knocked in his throat as he fumbled with his own breeches, unsure where to rest his eyes as he pulled them down over his aroused cock. He chose Merlin.

Merlin had paused. Arthur had as well. They watched as the knights’ bodies were revealed to them, warm and hard from the set of their shoulders to the planes of their feet. They saw each other often, bathing in rolling water when they travelled, relieving themselves in the woods, dressing outside tents as they made their way to faraway destinations. This was different. Intimate, performed. There was more than alcohol and sport that raised expectation. It was the perfect set of Merlin’s swollen lips, the angelic lines of his face, and the dark cock that he bared to them as he finally pulled his trousers down his legs.

Arthur raked his gaze over Merlin as he too, last, pulled his trousers down over his erection, straight and silken as though his royal blood had carved every inch of him in perfection. For a moment there was silence, but for the soft puffs of breath that escaped the men in their arousal. There was no going back. No way to return to clothing without…something…happening. Layered over the arousal was anxiety and Lancelot was sure it wasn’t only his own. But Arthur and Merlin looked most at peace, and Merlin only took a moment before he crawled forward on his knees to the mead bottle, comfortably baring his slim frame and rigid cock and swinging balls before he settled down to spin. Lancelot was painfully hard now, vaguely conscious that he would need release soon, and that it would come in this circle of his closest comrades. The thought scared and thrilled him alternately, and with that he allowed himself to drink in the sight of Merlin, all lanky grace as he bent over and set the bottle twirling towards its fate.

It landed midway between Arthur and Gwaine, and Lancelot couldn’t believe magic had not intervened. There could be no other way for things to proceed, and there it was.

“We share,” said Arthur, who had already begun to slide closer to Gwaine, eyes passing back and forth between the strong, thick lines of Gwaine’s muscled torso and the elegant length of Merlin. Heat rose from their tight circle, growing tighter as they all leaned in, bodies beginning to strain from desire. Elyan had inched toward Arthur and laid a light hand on Arthur’s ankle. Leon moved closer to Gwaine from the other side and watched Merlin advance in quiet desperation, Merlin clearing the path of cards and the bottle as he went.

Lancelot found his resolve and wrapped a hand around Percival’s giant forearm, encouraging him to move with him behind Merlin, closer to the knot of bodies. Percival didn’t hesitate; he got to his knees, accentuating the enormity of the cock that stood stiffly between his legs, and shimmied with Lancelot behind Merlin until they were a tight ring with Merlin at its centre.

Merlin had laid a wrist in the curve of Gwaine’s neck and raised his other palm to Arthur’s cheek. Lancelot watched as Merlin leaned into Arthur, small grunts of half-restrained pleasure escaping on the meeting of their lips. Restraint faltered quickly and Arthur had his arms around Merlin, pulling him in as their lips first, then tongues, then teeth explored, not a little desperate. Lancelot was close at Merlin’s back and against all better judgment found himself bringing his hand over Arthur’s, tracing the rough skin of Arthur’s knuckles as they curved over Merlin’s ribs. Lancelot could feel the heat where they touched, and wondered how the two of them had denied this as long as they had. He looked to Gwaine and saw his half-lidded gaze fixed on the kiss, his naked body leaning into the intimate space between Arthur and Merlin. Gwaine must have known. Some part of him had wanted to see just this.

Merlin shuddered and Lancelot slid closer. He pressed himself to Merlin’s back and looked over his shoulder to see that Arthur had taken Merlin’s cock in hand, was gripping tight. Arthur used his thumb to spread the wet from the head down the shaft and began stroking, slowly, choking sounds out of Merlin that forced a momentary end to the kiss.

Around him, Lancelot’s comrades were transfixed by the erotic scene. There could be no question the intent had shifted. It was this, between Arthur and Merlin, that they watched with desire. Their breathing came heavy now, Percival tense next to Lancelot and at one point laying a hand on Lancelot’s back, as if to ground himself. The fingers Elyan had on Arthur’s ankle were drifting up his calf, trembling at the touch and reaching for something that wasn’t his, but somehow belonged to all of them. Leon took himself in hand as he pressed his chest into Gwaine’s shoulder and leaned to watch Arthur stroking Merlin’s cock, occasionally lifting his gaze to Merlin’s slack mouth. And finally Gwaine slid in to kiss Merlin, more careful than he was with almost anything, gently pressing into Merlin’s whining lips while Arthur watched, his expression a confused muddle of jealousy and arousal.

It was all there, without words, and through the haze of desire Lancelot thought _we can witness for them_ and _this is about all of us_. He surprised himself with these thoughts but didn’t fight them, just began to use his hands on Merlin’s back. He let himself press closer, looked to Percival next to him and watched as his giant friend appraised him through sex-addled eyes. Percival slid the hand he had on Lancelot’s back lower, skimming the curve of Lancelot’s arse, and around his hip, to fit his cock into its powerful grip. One pull knocked Lancelot’s wind out and his forehead fell against Merlin’s back. All of a sudden Merlin’s shuddering frame and the whimpering cries he poured into Gwaine’s waiting mouth were Lancelot’s own. He could only vaguely register other sounds, the grunts and strains of pleasure unleashing itself around him.

He let his eyes slip shut as Percival stroked him hard over his lap. His forehead remained at Merlin’s back, and as his balls began to pull up he wrapped his arms around Merlin, held him around the chest, feeling connected to Merlin’s rising pleasure in the places they met. Percival’s touch was unexpected ecstasy, and Merlin was falling apart under Arthur’s quickening hand, panting into Gwaine’s kiss.

“Spend for me, spend for me, _spill it now_ ,” the command of their prince, directed to his servant but meant for all of them as the unmistakable noises of approaching climax shook the room. Percival’s hand sped and, unprepared, the pleasure caught and broke through Lancelot so that he groaned loudly into Merlin’s back and shook through it, wet in his own lap as Percival stroked him to the last.

His eyes opened and wits returned in time for him to realise Merlin was still trembling under him. He lifted himself up in time to see the dark and rigid cock spill against Arthur’s abdomen and his own straining erection. The sight sent Lancelot’s thoughts scattering into bright splotches of _oh gods_ and _beautiful_ and _oh oh oh_ , which were the words on Merlin’s own lips as he fell against Arthur.

Lancelot pulled back from them, as did Gwaine, letting Arthur hold Merlin, Merlin’s head buried in Arthur’s neck. The boy looked destroyed with pleasure, utterly owned by Arthur, and for a moment Lancelot eyes stung at the sight of them joined.

Beside him, he became aware that Percival’s heavy breath had turned to grunts. Percival released Lancelot’s spent cock and curled his hand over Lancelot’s shoulder, while Elyan took command of Percival’s pleasure, his own painted across dark thighs. Percival braced himself between Lancelot and Elyan, reddening as he groaned toward climax, thrusting into Elyan’s grip. Lancelot’s attention split between the magnificent sight of Percival about to come undone and the rightness of Merlin in Arthur’s arms.

Arthur was kissing whispers into Merlin’s ear; a question, quiet, that Merlin responded to with a nod into Arthur’s neck.

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked more firmly.

Merlin raised his head and answered into Arthur’s jaw. “I am.”

Percival shuddered and spent next to Lancelot as Gwaine dug into his discarded trousers to bring out a small bottle. Lancelot’s skin had cooled minutely from his own sweat and climax, but he felt himself heat with anticipation as Gwaine handed the bottle to Arthur, Arthur’s eyes now riveted to Merlin’s own.

Gwaine turned to give Leon a quick kiss, nipped at his shoulder as he tugged him by the wrist and moved them both away. They joined Elyan and Percival just behind Lancelot, Gwaine leaning into Percival’s side as they settled. Gwaine was still hard, the rest of them spent but not yet finished. Lancelot felt a hand on his shoulder as his gaze returned to Arthur and Merlin. “Watch them,” Gwaine said reverently.

Arthur laid Merlin down on his back and pressed into the cradle of Merlin’s knees, bringing oil slicked fingers down. Lancelot saw the expression on Merlin’s face shift as Arthur pushed those fingers inside him and felt his own breath catch as Merlin’s mouth dropped open and neck arched back at the breach. Lancelot held his breath, growing half-hard again at the picture of Arthur working Merlin open. Merlin had lost the look of innocence. His mouth rubbed red and swollen was opened around obscene moans, and even so recently spent, his cock grew from Arthur’s careful attentions. Lancelot shifted to get a better view of Arthur’s profile, and the acute want in his eye and the jut of his jaw was unmistakable.

The hand on Lancelot’s shoulder slipped. He glanced back to see Gwaine’s cock disappearing into Percival’s fist, Gwaine’s forehead fallen onto Percival’s shoulder. Leon stroked Gwaine’s back, while Elyan was riveted to the sight of Merlin writhing on Arthur’s fingers.

“Now, _please_ ,” Merlin choked out.

Arthur was quick, thighs shaking slightly as he lined himself up and pushed in. The gust of Merlin’s breath echoed in Arthur’s groan and a strangled cry from Gwaine. Lancelot’s heart thudded in his chest, the blood that rushed through them all making him tingle with life. The heat and sounds of lust wrapped around them now as they hurtled toward a final release.

And it was more than release. As Lancelot watched Arthur and Merlin rocking together, crashing through all their thinly held defences and any separation once between them, he knew he was seeing an irrevocable union take place. A union between their prince and this boy who had all their hearts, but whose devotion had always belonged to Arthur.

Lancelot had taken himself in hand and begun to stroke without thought, bringing himself to full hardness as Merlin moaned and pushed back on Arthur’s speeding thrusts. Lancelot’s eyes closed on the nearly unbearable beauty of Arthur and Merlin joined, and then were forced open again by the sounds of ecstasy in the room. Each time he looked, Arthur’s own eyes were wide open, fixed on Merlin. Arthur’s palm cradled Merlin’s cheek tenderly even as his hips jerked with force. Merlin’s own eyes were tearing, so overcome it looked like he might light up like a flame.

Lancelot’s pleasure peaked, the arousal bright and abrupt and coursing through him as he spilled into his own hand and lap. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he found Merlin’s gaze passing over Arthur’s shoulder to him, and then flitting to the knights behind him.

“Lance?” Merlin’s voice was hoarse. Lancelot couldn’t find his own, but nodded in response.

“A kiss?”

Lancelot didn’t hesitate. He crawled around Arthur. Merlin lifted himself slightly onto his elbows and Lancelot leaned in for one brief, almost chaste kiss of those lips that had brought them all to this moment tonight. Lancelot felt a sharp current of magic pass through him, something warm and soft curling into his chest as he pulled away. Merlin laid himself back and Arthur leaned over him, slowing to take Merlin’s mouth for his own. Lancelot gripped the back of Arthur’s neck as he pulled away from them, trying to convey in his touch how glad he was for this.

After a suspended moment of silence, when Arthur and Merlin’s lips joined to swallow the sounds of their pleasure, Arthur began to move again. He spoke softly now into Merlin’s mouth as he rocked into him. And finally he began to shake through erratic thrusts, finding his release buried inside Merlin. Lancelot sat back against Leon’s shoulder, taking in the sight of Gwaine wrapped in Percival’s arms and Elyan with an elbow propped into Percival’s broad shoulder. They heard Merlin’s final cry a moment later and began to exchange quiet, easy kisses; Leon’s lips brushing Lancelot’s; Elyan and Percival in one last, heated meeting; Gwaine biting at Leon and giving Lancelot a little tongue before he let Percival pull him to his feet and lead him away, gathering their clothes as they left.

Each of them did so silently, as Arthur and Merlin lay entwined on the rug, neither of them ready to leave the comfort of this, or break off the kisses they enjoyed in the absence of rush.

Lancelot pulled up his trousers and pulled on his tunic, carried his boots, and left his cloak for Merlin, as he tiptoed away from his prince and the sorcerer in his arms.

The deck of cards and mead bottle would be all that remained when the sun rose in an hour.


End file.
